


Martin's Ten

by Smartinski



Series: Martin's Win [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, I have no idea, Ocean's AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-05-29 16:53:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15077567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smartinski/pseuds/Smartinski
Summary: “What?” Allison squints. “You want to rob acasino?”Lydia takes a sip of her coffee and shakes her head with a playful look.She holds up three fingers.Allison stares at Lydia’s elevated hand. She puts down her coffee and mutters under her breath.“Jesus christ.”(Here's an Ocean's AU. I get weird ideas)





	1. Introduction

“Good morning.”

She smiles at the board member and nods. “Good morning.”

“Please state your name for the record.”

“Lydia Martin.”

“Thank you. Ms Martin, the purpose of this meeting is to determine whether, if released, you are likely to break the law again. While this was your first conviction, you have been implicated though never charged, in over a dozen other confidence schemes and frauds. What can you tell us about this?”

The corner of Lydia’s mouth quirks up. “As you said, ma’am, I was never charged.”

“Ms Martin, what we’re trying to find out is...was there a reason you chose to commit this crime, or was there a reason why you simply got caught this time?”

She exhales, flutters her eyelashes a couple of times. “My boyfriend left me. I was sad. I found myself getting into a self-destructive pattern.”

“If released, is it likely you would fall back into a similar pattern?”

Lydia blinks. “He already left me once. I can’t imagine that I would jump at the chance of that happening to me again.”

The board members exchange glances. 

_Watch your sarcasm, Lydia._

“Ms Martin, what do you think you would do if released?”

Lydia links her hands together and lets them rest upon her knee. Her eyes move to the ceiling.

She considers.

And two days later, when she steps outside the minimum-security prison (or as she likes to call it: the _shithole_ she’s had to stay in for the past four years) and she breathes in the fresh air that isn’t that fresh with relief, she contemplates the question.

She’d honestly rather tear out her own eyes than go back home. And she’d much rather tear out her own eyes and _eat_ them than go back to her mother.

So she thinks. Even though she’s made up her mind, she gives herself and the board member the benefit of the doubt and thinks about it for a second.

Fuck it, she’s made up her mind.

**\------**

** ATLANTIC CITY, NJ **

Her hands sits on the railing of the escalator and she looks down at her outfit for a moment.

The tight dress and Louis Vuitton’s make a nice change from the horrific green jumpsuit she’s had to wear for far too long.

When she gets off, her heels are met with plush red carpet and a very busy casino floor.

It feels good to be back.

Lydia confidentally walks through, head high, lips pursed, eyes glistening.

She takes a seat at a blackjack table and pulls out several crisp one hundreds. She sets them on the green felt and watches them being replaced by a neat pile of chips.

She cranes her neck about the casino, her eyes scanning each face until she can find the one she’s looking for.

“Good luck.” The dealer nods.

“Thank you.” Lydia smiles, looks past the man in front of her. Lydia spots her straight away.

Bingo.

She casually brings her attention back to her cards and the cards of the dealer.

“Twenty.” The dealer states. “The dealer has nineteen. Good start.”

Lydia smirks.

She gets a king-four. The dealer shows a six. She sticks.

The dealer busts. Queen-ace and twenty-one. Lydia wins again.

Just like that, she falls back into the swing of things like the last four years didn’t happen.

“I’m going on a break now.” The dealer smiles.

Lydia watches the second dealer come to replace the first one and she holds back a smile. “Enjoy.”

She keeps her eyes on her chips, picks one up and flips it between her fingers and waits for the dealer to speak.

“Good evening, ma’am.”

Lydia looks up, really taking her in.

“Hello, Malia.”

The woman in front of Lydia freezes, stares at the table and then plasters on a fake smile.

“I’m sorry, ma’ am. You must have me confused with someone else. My name is Cindy.” Malia points to her name tag. “ _See?_ ”

Lydia holds her grin, gazes at Malia for a few more seconds before she starts to collect her chips. “My apologies. Table’s cold, anyway.”

Malia continues her fake smile. “You might want to try the lounge at the Caesars. It gets busy around one o’clock.”

Lydia’s grin turns into a polite smile before she gets up. “One o’clock?”

Malia nods.

“Okay then. Thank you.”

She waits until quarter to one before heading up to the lounge and orders a dirty martini. She nurses it while reading yesterday’s New York Times and when she checks her watch again, it’s twelve fifty-eight. She scans the room.

Her eyes fall back down to the page she’s on and stops at a header. She reads the article, studies the photo.

“Catching up on current events?”

Lydia lowers the paper and sees Malia sitting across from her, changed out of her work clothes.

“Cindy? _Really?_ ”

Malia deadpans. “Character generator. First name that popped up. How long have you been out for?”

“This afternoon.”

Malia points to Lydia’s half empty glass. “Turning over a new leaf, I see.”

“Have you seen her?” Lydia cuts straight to it.

Malia sighs and leans back in her chair, grabbing the waiters attention. “Last I heard, she was in L.A. Apparently teaching celebrities how to play cards.” She orders her drink. “Why? Surely you don’t have something planned already.”

Lydia flutters her eyelashes. “Really, Malia? I _just_ became a citizen again.”

Malia waits a beat, stares at Lydia until a smile creeps onto her face.

Lydia matches her expression.

Around an hour later, she’s standing in front of a pay phone outside the Trump Plaza with her third martini sitting in her hand.

“Hi, officer Jones, this is Lydia Martin. I was told to contact you within twenty-four hours.”

She watches her breath turn into fog as she listens to the officer.

“No, sir, I haven’t got into any trouble.”

She smiles at the next question.

“No, sir, I haven’t been drinking, no.”

She finishes the last of her drink.

“No, sir. I wouldn’t even think of leaving the state.”

**\------**

**HOLLYWOOD, CA**

Allison leans against her Ford Falcon, slurping on the last of her milkshake.

When she hears her name being called, she stands up straight, wipes her damp hand on her denim jacket and walks towards the gentleman waiting.

When they’re five minutes into their walk and they’re heading towards an allyway with a gate, the man taps her on the shoulder.

She opens the gate and carries on walking.

“Hey, Argent. I don’t know if you’re, uh, incorporated or anything...cause you know, ‘Argent’, cause I was talking to my manager yesterday-”

“Bernie?” Allison asks.

“Not that Bernie, I mean my business manager. And he was telling me that since this, what we do, could be considered research for a future gig, that I should be able to write if off as a business expense. So he suggested that it’d be better if I wrote you a check, and-”

Allison stops walking, turns to the d-list celebrity with her tongue in her cheek.

“Or...or we could keep it cash. Sure.”

Allison smirks and carries on walking.

They enter the night club and walk straight through, avoiding the bodies as they go.

Allison passes the bar and pushes a long red curtain out of the way and walks into a new room before looking around and taking a seat at the table. 

She stretches, cracks her fingers and smiles at the faces. “Good evening, everyone. Let’s play some cards.”

Quarter of an hour later and she’s bored.

“Hundred bucks to me.” A guy on her right sniffs. “Fuck it, pocket change. Call.”

Allison leans over to him. “Why you bet a certain way is your business, but you have to make them think you’re betting for a reason. Get it?”

Another fifteen minutes later and she’s nursing a headache.

“Seth. You know what you have. Looking at them doesn’t change them. Leave the cards where they are and make your bet.”

More time passes and she would much rather be spending it anywhere else but here. Surrounded by ametures. 

“You’re showing.” She glares at the player in front of her tilting his cards to the woman left of him. “I know she’s your girlfriend, Barry, but you can’t...”

He tilts his cards back towards him.

“Thank you.”

This one hour feels like five.

“Josh. Deal to your left.”

A waitress comes in from the club and she hands out a fresh round.

Thank god.

“One vodka tonic and four bottled waters.” The waitress smiles.

Allison’s glares at the bottles of water being distributed around the table.

Bottled fucking water on a poker table. She can’t deal with this anymore.

“Two pairs - nines and twos.” A guy states.

Allison checks her hand. A full-house of face cards. “You got me. Let’s take a break.”

She sits at the bar, orders another double vodka tonic and stares at the dancing girls through the windows in front. She holds her drink to her forehead and sighs at the cold impact.

“How’s the game going?!” The bartender yells over the music.

“It’s been the longest hour of my life.”

“What?!” The bartender yells, unable to hear her.

“I’m running away with your wife.” Allison deadpans.

“Nice!” The bartenders smiles, oblivious, and walks away.

Allison continues to watch the dancers in front and ends up catching her reflection in the glass, her fatigued expression visible.

What the fuck is she doing here.

When she goes back into the room, her eyes drag along the floor and she sits down.

“Hey, Argent. We got another player, if that’s alright.”

Allison drags her eyes up to the newbie in front of her and freezes.

“The bouncer mentioned there was a game in progress.” Lydia crosses her arms on the table with a smile. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

“No intrusion at all-” One of the guys smile.

“What was the bouncer’s name?” The corner of Allison’s mouth twitches.

Lydia blinks, the smile still on her face. “I can’t remember.”

Allison lets out a short laugh. “A card player with amnesia. This should be fun.”

One of the players cough awkwardly. “Let’s start.”

Allison deals the next hand, one eye on Lydia at all times.

“So, what do you do for a living, Ms Martin? If you don’t mind me asking.” The girl next to Lydia asks.

“Why should I mind? Two cards, please.”

There’s a long pause.

“I’ve just got out of prison.” Lydia states.

Allison twitches.

“Really?” A man asks.

“Barry, you’re showing again.” Allison says shortly.

“Sorry.”

“What’d you, uh, go to prison for?” The girl asks.

Lydia keeps her face straight as she looks at her hand. “I stole things.”

“What, like jewels? Diamonds?”

Allison answers for her. “Incan matrimonial headmasks.”

Everyone exchanges looks.

“From a _museum?_ ”

“Gallery.” Lydia corrects the man. She recognizes none of these “celebrities”. Maybe she missed them rise up during jail time.

“So, there’s a lot of money in those, er, Incan matrimonial...”

“Headmasks.” Lydia finishes. “Some.”

“Don’t let her fool you, Seth.” Allison looks up. “There’s boatloads. If you can move the things - one card to me - but you can’t.”

“My fence seemed confident enough.” Lydia tilts her head, enjoying this.

“If you’re dealing with cash, you don’t need a fence.” Allison retorts.

“Some people just lack vision.” Lydia says.

“Probably everybody in cell block E.” Allison smiles sweetly.

Everyone falls silent around them.

Lydia holds her small smile. “Well, that’s all behind us now.”

Allison’s face doesn’t move a muscle. “I should hope so.”

Lydia smiles icily and Allison knows it’s fake. Of _course_ she knows what Lydia is doing.

“I will raise you five hundred dollars.” Lydia pulls out her purse and places the money on the table. Her and Allison hold eachother’s stares as the room quietens even more, if possible.

“Guys, remember day one. What’s the first rule of poker?” Allison asks the group.

“Um, never bet on...” Barry tries.

“Leave the emotion at the door.” Seth hits it spot on.

“That’s right. My friend here just raised me out of pique.” Allison smiles smugly. “Today’s lesson. How to draw out a bluff. This early in the game, that much money, I’m thinking she’s holding nothing better than a pair of face cards. Seth, raise her.”

“Okay. Uh, your five hundred and...another two?”

Allison nods and watches him push in his chips. “Barry.”

“Seven to me. Plus three. What the hell.”

“Indeed. But be careful you don’t push her too high too fast. You want to keep her on the leash. I call.”

“What’s that to me?” The man next to her asks. “A thousand?”

“All you have to do is call.” Allison replies.

“What, is your boyfriend holding your purse?” Lydia tilts her head at the hesitating man.

The man calls it. The bet goes to Lydia and she checks her hand. She leans over to whisper to the guy next to her. 

“Contrary to what Ms Argent may say, Seth, I always check my cards before I make a bet. But be careful. I could tell from your face you’re holding three of a kind or better.” She pulls her purse back out. “Five hundred to call. And two grand more.”

She stares Allison down. Everyone’s looking a little pale.

“Guys, you’re free to do what you like.” Allison states. “It’s a lot of money. But I’m staying in. She’s trying to buy her way out of her bluff.”

Nobody’s looking too eager to call, but Allison knows that nobody wants to leave a grand on the table either.

Seth eventually ponies up and the others follow persuit.

“We call.”

Lydia sets down her hand. Four nines.

She wins.

Jaws drop around her and everyone throws in their cards.

“Shit.” Allison hisses. “Sorry guys, I was sure she was bluffing.”

Everyone starts to get up and leave, mumbling and pissed off but Allison stays sitting, and when the room clears she finds that Lydia has stayed as well.

A moment passes where they just _stare_ at each other but Allison is the first to break.

She grins at her old friend.

Lydia grins back.

After they gather their winnings, they head to the exit and pass the celebrities they were playing with signing autographs for people waiting in the queue and the two girls slip away unnoticed.

They start walking towards Allison’s Falcon and she puts her hands in the pockets of her jacket. “Well, that was-”

“Unproffesional.” Lydia agrees, her heels clicking on the concrete.

“So, how was it?” Allison asks. “Get the cookies I sent you?”

“Why do you think I came to see you first?”

Allison unlocks the car and they both get in. She watches Lydia pull out a wad of bills from her coat, peels off half and hands it to her.

“Ten grand. Half of it is yours.”

Allison blinks. “You barge into my new workplace and ruin my professional reputation, the least you could do is tell me you’ve got something better for me.”

Lydia smirks. “I’ve got something better for you.”

Allison pockets the money and starts the car.

They end up in a booth with a cup of coffee each.

Lydia unwraps her hands from around her cup. “How’s Scott?”

Allison glares at her.

“Alright then.” Lydia pulls in her lips and gets to the point. “It’s tricky. No one’s ever done it before. It needs planning. A large crew.”

“Guns?”

“Not loaded ones. It has to be extremely precise.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less from you.” Allison smirks.

Lydia’s lips pull up slightly. “There’s a lot of security. But the take...”

“What’s the target?”

“Eight figures each.”

“What’s the target, Lydia.”

Lydia lets out a deep breath and stares through the window next to them. “When was the last time you went to Vegas?”

“What?” Allison squints. “You want to rob a _casino?_ ”

Lydia takes a sip of her coffee and shakes her head with a playful look.

She holds up three fingers.

Allison stares at Lydia’s elevated hand. She puts down her coffee and mutters under her breath.

“Jesus christ.”


	2. Meet the ten

**\------**

** LIBRARY, DOWNTOWN L.A. **

"Got them." Lydia whispers.

Allison looks around the library to ensure they're still alone after Lydia's voice echoes throughout. She stands next to Lydia and holds her flashlight to the blueprints that her friend has laid flat out on the table.

Lydia licks her lower lip. "The vault at the Jungle."

Allison leans forward a little to study the blueprints. "If I'm reading these right - and I think that I am - this is probably the least accessible vault ever designed."

Lydia pulls in her lips.

"Actually, you know what? I'm wrong." Allison stands up straight. "It's definitely the least accessible vault ever designed."

"Uh-huh." Lydia nods.

"You said three casinos." Allison frowns.

Lydia moves the Jungle's vault blueprints to the side to show some more blueprints underneath. "These feed into the cages at both the Preserve and the Sinema." She gestures back to the vault. "But every penny ends up here."

"The Jungle, Preserve, and..." Allison mumbles. "These are all Matt Daehler's casinos."

Lydia nods. "They are. Do you think he'll mind?"

"I can imagine he will."

They leave with the blueprints and take the elevator down to the bottom floor. When the doors open, Allison turns to Lydia.

"You'd need at least ten bodies to pull this off." She pauses. "And where on earth are you going to get the money to back this?"

Lydia holds open the door to the library to let Allison pass. "As long as we're hitting these three casinos, we'll get our bankroll. Matt Daehler has a list of enemies."

They start walking to Allison's car. "But does he have enemies with loose cash and nothing to lose...? Oh. _Oh._ "

Lydia smiles. " _Oh._ "

Allison smiles with her. "Deaton."

When they're in the car and Allison's been driving silently for the past five minutes, Lydia turns to her. "What?"

Allison opens her mouth, then closes. She opens it again. "I need a reason. And don't say money. Why do this?"

Lydia tilts her head back on the headrest. "Why _not_ do it?"

Allison stares at her and patiently waits for her to cut with the bullshit.

Lydia sighs, runs a hand through her hair. "Because I walked out of prison yesterday losing four years of my life and wearing my entire wardrobe and _you're_ cold-decking cover boys for Teen Vogue."

Allison's expression turns defensive before she exhales. "I am so bored."

"I can see that."

" _So_ bored."

"The house always wins, Allison." Lydia continues. "You play long enough, never changing stakes, the house takes you. Unless, when that special hand comes around, you bet big. And then you take the house."

A beat passes before Allison smiles and takes her eyes off of the road to glance at Lydia. "You practise that speech?"

"How'd I do? Did I rush it? Felt like I rushed it."

"No, you did great. I liked it." Allison replied. "I wonder what Deaton will say."

**\------**

** LAS VEGAS, NV **

  


"You're out of your minds."

Lydia and Allison look at each other.

"Are you both listening to me?" Deaton blinks, halfway through his salad. "Both of you have lost it. I know more about casino security than any man alive. I invented it and it cannot be beaten. They have cameras, they have watchers, they have locks, timers, vaults. They have enough armed personnel to occupy Paris."

"It's never been attempted."

Deaton stares at Lydia from across his garden table. "Oh, it's been tried. A few even came close. You know the three most successful robberies in Vegas history? The first man got to experience what NFL quarterbacks experience every Sunday, the second one was breathing out of a hose for three weeks and the last one was ripped to shreds by bullets. Oh, and _all three_ ended up doing time."

Allison pushes her sunglasses up her nose. Lydia looks around Deaton's garden. It's really nice.

"But what am I saying? You guys are _professionals_ , the _best_. I'm sure you can make it out of the casino. Of course, lest we forget, once you're out the front door, you're still in the middle of the desert."

Allison pushes her lips together. "You're right." She looks at Lydia. "He's right."

"Deaton, you're right. Our eyes are bigger than our stomachs." Lydia shrugs.

"Exactly that." Allison wipes her hands on her napkin. "Pure ego."

"Thank you so much for setting us straight. I'm sorry we bothered you. Thanks for lunch." Lydia smiles.

When they both rise to leave, Deaton stands with them. "Look, I understand we share a history. I do still owe you from that predicament with the man and the thing and the place and I'll never forget it."

"It was our pleasure." Lydia beams.

"I'd never been to Belize." Allison adds.

"Give Dominic your addresses, I have some remaindered furniture I'd like to send to you." Deaton sits back down and continues with his food.

As the girls circle the pool to their left and head to leave, Deaton stops them.

"Out of curiosity...which casinos did your intelligent minds pick to rob?"

Lydia stops and turns, almost as if she's been waiting for this question. Which she has. "The Jungle, the Preserve and the Sinema."

Deaton drops his fork. "Those are Matt Daehler's casinos."

Allison looks at Lydia. "You know what? He's right."

"He is."

Deaton holds up his hand to stop them from leaving. He walks towards them. "What do you two have against Matt Daehler?"

Lydia's eyes sparkle. Her mind skips back to the article she was reading in the New York Times. "I think the real question is...what do _you_ have against him?"

"He torpedoed my casino, muscled me out and now he's going to blow it up next month to make way for another eyesore." Deaton clenches his jaw. "Don't think I don't see what you're doing."

Allison frowns. "What _are_ we doing, Deaton?"

"You're going to steal from Matt Daehler and you better know. This sort of thing used to be civilized. You'd hit a guy, he'd hit you back. Done. But Daehler...at the end of this he better not know you're involved, not know your names, or think you're dead. Because he'll kill you and then he'll go to work on you."

"That's why we have to be very careful." Lydia speaks clearly. "We have to be very precise. We have to be very well funded."

"You have to be completely insane, too." Deaton sighs. "You're also going to need a crew that is just as insane as you."

Lydia waits. She looks at Allison who's got a smirk on her face.

Deaton blinks. "Who do you have in mind?"

They've caught their fish.

**\------**

"Alright, who's in?" Allison asks from across the table. They end up back in a booth drinking coffee the following day.

"Malia's in. She has developed a bad case of bronchitis and is putting in for a transfer to warmer climates. What about drivers?"

Allison tilts her head at Lydia and glares.

"Scott's up for this?" Lydia asks.

"Of course he is."

"Okay." Lydia jots down quickly. "Electronics?"

Allison looks down at her list. "Kira Yukimura."

Lydia looks at her to hear more.

"Kira has been doing freelance surveillance for the F.B.I. mob squad."

"How are her nerves?" Lydia asks.

"They're okay." Allison shoots back. Lydia doesn't trust her answer. _Allison_ doesn't trust her own answer. "Not so bad that you'd notice."

**\------**

** LOS ANGELES, CA **

They're sitting in a cafe that overlooks Almond park where they can see Kira walking through to meet with them and watch as she gets tangled in a dog leash and struggles to get herself out of it.

Allison inwardly sighs and looks at the next item on her list. "Munitions."

Lydia looks up. "Adrian Harris?"

"Dead."

"No way. On the job?" Lydia frowns.

"Skin cancer."

"Did you send flowers?"

Allison puffs out her cheeks. "Dated his wife for a while."

Lydia's mind clicks together. "Lahey's in town."

Allison screws up her nose. "There may be an issue with the availability."

**\------**

Isaac sets the last explosive on the door to the bank's vault and rushes to hide behind a wall with the rest of his team. He flips his goggles down.

"Alright, gentlemen..." He gets ready to press the button. "Hold on tight."

The bombs go off and wood shards and splinters of glass are scattered around them. Isaac whistles.

The three men next to him rise to their feet once the mess has settled and walk into the vault. Isaac stands to follow them.

An alarm begins to sound.

"For-guys, you had _one_ job!" Isaac hisses.

The police arrive shortly after and drag Isaac and the other men outside the bank with their hands over their heads. Isaac has a smirk on his face.

An officer leads him to the side of a cop car and begins asking him questions. "So those were the only explosives you used during the event? Nothing else?"

Isaac raises his eyebrows. "Are you accusing me of booby-trapping?"

The cop sighs. "Well, how 'bout it?"

"Booby traps aren't Mr Lahey's style."

Isaac looks to his left to see where the new voice has come from. Allison's walking towards them with a black work suit hugging her figures.

"Isn't that right, Isaac?" Allison looks from Isaac to the officer and holds up her fake badge briefly. "Sandra, A.T.F. Let me venture a guess. A simple G4 mainliner, double-coil, backwound, quick fuse with a drag under 20 feet."

The cop blinks. Allison goes by his reaction. "That's our man. Tell me something else. Have you checked him for booby traps on his person? I mean, _really_ checked, not just for weapons."

While the officer looks bewildered, Allison steps forward and yanks Isaac off of the side of the cop car. She spins him around and begins checking his legs, waist and arms, quickly passing Isaac something before the cop sees. She looks up at the officer. "Will you go find Griggs and tell him I need to see him?"

The cop blinks. "Who?"

Allison stands up straight and glares at him. "Just go find him, will you?!"

She turns to Isaac as the officer runs off and speaks under her breath.

"Hey, Isaac."

"Allison." He smiles with his back turned.

"How fast can you put together something with what I just passed you?"

"Done." Isaac replies.

"From when?"

Something snaps from behind Isaac's back. "Now."

She pulls at his cuffs and leads him away from the police cars and authorities. "Ten seconds?"

"Not quite." Isaac shoots back. "Is Lydia here?"

"Around the corner."

"Thank god. It'll be a relief to be working with professionals again. Now."

Allison turns around to the crowd of authorities. "Everybody down!"

As the bomb goes off by the squad car and cops dive onto the ground to cover their heads, her and Isaac rush away as quickly as they can before anyone sees them.

They turn a corner and Allison unlocks the cuffs around Isaac's wrists.

He starts laughing as he keeps with Allison's speed. "They weren't expecting that shit."

"Nice work."

"Thank you."

**\------**

** SAN DIEGO, CA **

Trapeze artists, gymnastic teams, and trampoline daredevils fly, somersault, spin, and swing through the air as Lydia and Allison sit in  
the bleachers, surrounded by parents and kids munching on spindles of cotton candy.

"Ladies and gentlemen...the incredible Dunbar!"

They watch as a young boy begins his high-wire act.

Lydia shrugs. "So he can walk on a rope."

Allison picks up a handful of popcorn. "He can do more than that."

"So he can juggle. We need a grease man, not an acrobat. Who else is on the list?" Lydia asks.

"He _is_ the list." Allison mumbles through a mouthful of food. "Just watch."

Halfway across the wire, the kid sits. And very slowly, but without hesitation, he contorts himself into a ball, never losing his balance.

Lydia can't help but be a _little_ impressed.

Allison smiles as the crowd erupts into applause. "There's your grease man."

They exit the circus tent shortly after and make their way to Allison's Falcon.

Lydia looks around casually. "We need Derek."

"He won't come." Allison unlocks her car. "He swore off the game a year ago."

"Religion?" Lydia asks.

"Ulcers." Allison replies.

Lydia gets in the car and shuts the door. "You could ask him."

Allison places her keys in the ignition. "Hey, I could ask him."

**\------**

** ST. PETERSBURG, FL **

Allison steps into the dog track and walks through to the seating area. She scans only for a couple of seconds until her eyes land on Derek.

He's wearing a corduroy suit and he's clean shaven, seated and checking his tickets.

Allison casually walks up to him and leans on the back of the chair next to him.

He keeps his eyes on his tickets. "I saw you in the paddock before the second race, outside the men's room, when I placed my bet." He turns his head to look at her and smiles. "I saw you before you even got up this morning."

Allison laughs quietly. "How've you been, Derek?"

He pulls an orange out of the pocket of his suit and starts peeling it. "Never better."

"What's with the orange?"

"My doctor says I need vitamins."

"So why don't you take vitamins?"

"Have you come here to give me a physical?"

Allison rolls her eyes and stands up straight. "Come on. I got a box seat."

They head up to the top floor and sit down. A waitress comes over and Derek asks for coffee.

Allison eyes him. "What happened to drinking bloody Mary's at the track?"

Derek expression stays placid, as usual. "A man shouldn't drink on the job."

Allison ignores him and stares at the window. The dogs are ready to race. "Who we rooting for?"

"Number four."

The bell rings and the electronic rabbit is released. The dogs break out of the gate. 

Derek's eyes never leave the race. "Are you going to ask me? Or should I just say "no" and get it over with?"

The waitress returns with two cups of coffee. Derek thanks her.

"Derek, you're the best there is." Allison stares at him. "What do you want?"

"Nothing." He replies. "I've changed."

"People like us don't change, Derek. We stay sharp or we get sloppy, but we don't change. Is that your hound way at the back there?"

"He breaks late. Everyone knows this." Derek shoots back. "Are you going to treat me like a grown up and tell me what the scam is?"

Allison leans in and whispers the plan into Derek's ear, ignoring the way his eyes light up.

She places a ticket in his hand and when she gets up and walks out, hound number four crosses the finish line.

Last.

Derek grimaces. He looks down at the paper in his hand.

A ticket to Las Vegas.

**\------**

"Derek makes nine." Lydia sips on her Dirty Martini. "Nine should do it, right?"

Allison shrugs, sipping her beer.

"You think we need one more?"

Allison shrugs again.

Lydia turns to the television across the bar. "You think we need one more."

Allison shrugs for the final time.

"Okay." Lydia nods. "We'll get one more."

**\------**

** CHICAGO, IL **

Lydia sits on the train with her legs crossed and the Chicago Sun-Times in her lap. When she looks up after a woman steps off she can now properly see the man she's been following.

He's standing up, reading a book and not holding onto the pole. When the train starts again, he stumbles and falls into the guy next to him, quickly grabbing the man's wallet out of his suit before apologizing for his clumsiness.

Lydia smiles and pretends she didn't catch him pick-pocketing, going back to reading her paper.

When the man gets off the train, Lydia follows and catches up with him, placing something in his pocket before walking ahead.

The man gets out of the station and crosses the road, placing his hand in his pocket to grab the wallet he stole but can only find a business card. He pulls it out and reads it.

_Nice pull, Stilinski._

_Murphy's Bar, Rush & Division._

Stiles looks around him in confusion.

But - surprise surprise - his confusion is replaced by curiosity and he makes his way to the bar.

When he steps in, he looks around the bar and his eyes fall on a woman with red lips and strawberry-blonde hair. He kind of stops on the spot in awe.

She's nursing a Dirty Martini and she looks up, locking eyes with him before taking a sip of her drink.

He walks over to the table and sees the Gucci wallet he stole.

"Hi, Stiles. Take a seat."

He continues to stand. "Who are you?"

"A friend of a friend." She smiles, her eyes sparkling at him. "Sit down."

He obeys.

"A little birdy told me you were the best set of hands they ever saw. Didn't expect to find you working wallets on the subway."

He takes in the colour of her eyes and her polished nails. "That wasn't work, that was practice."

Lydia stares at him a little longer than he hopes for her to before she places her hand in her pocket and pulls out a plane ticket. She slides it across the table, her hand not leaving it.

"You're either in or out. Right now."

"What is it?"

"A plane ticket." Lydia tilts her head. "A job offer."

Stiles looks up at her, his eyes squinted. "You're pretty trusting pretty fast."

Lydia smirks. "The little birdy has every faith in you."

"Scott McCall?"

"You're good." Lydia smiles.

"He's extremely predictable." Stiles mumbles. "What if I say no?"

"We'll get someone else who won't be quite as good and you can go back to feeling up stockbrokers." Lydia looks over at the bartender. "Can I get the check, please?"

When Lydia looks back at Stiles, he's holding the ticket. She glances down to her hand where the ticket should still be. She smiles.

"That's the best lift I've seen you make yet."

He pulls his eyes away from the ticket to look at her. "Las Vegas, huh?"

"America's playground."

"Fine." Stiles brings the ticket down. Curiosity wins. "I'm in. But only if you tell me your name."

"Lydia."

"Pretty name."

"One question for you." Lydia taps her foot. "What the hell is a 'Stiles'?"

**\------**

** LAS VEGAS, NV **

Deaton opens the door once the doorbell rings, leaving Allison and Lydia in the kitchen.

When he opens it, he can only feel disappointment at what he sees.

Scott, Malia, Isaac, Kira, Liam, Derek and Stiles stare back at him.

Isaac smiles. "Trick or treat."

A taxi pulls away on Deaton's drive. "Did you all get a group rate or something?"

Lydia and Allison bring everyone into the garden, where food and drinks are available. Derek pockets an orange for later.

Lydia looks at Scott and nudges Allison. "Are you going to speak to him?"

"I've already spoken to him." Allison blinks. "I've said hello."

Lydia throws her a look of disbelief before throwing her two thumbs up. She leans behind her to retrieve a grape and hands Allison one before making her way to the end table to grab everyone's attention.

Slowly but surely, everyone stops their light conversations and turn to look at her. Allison joins her.

"Welcome to Las Vegas, ladies and gentlemen. Has everybody eaten? Great. Everybody sober?" She looks at Isaac. "Close enough. Most of you know each other already. You probably haven't met Stiles Stilinski before, he's an old friend of Scott's."

Stiles trades nods around the room.

"Okay." Lydia intertwines her hands. "Before we start, nobody's on the line here yet. What I'm about to propose to you happens to be both highly lucrative and highly dangerous. If that doesn't sound like your particular brand of vodka, help yourself to as much food as you like and safe journey. No hard feelings."

She pauses, looks around the room at each individual face.

"Otherwise, come with me."


	3. The plan

Lydia stands with her hands behind her back and waits for everyone to settle and focus on the model on the table in front of her. Allison leans against the arm chair next to Lydia, popping another grape into her mouth.

"Alright, people." Lydia clears her throat and nods her head towards the model. "This is the block of Las Vegas Boulevard. Otherwise known as the Jungle, the Preserve and the Sinema. Together, they're the three most profitable casinos in Las Vegas."

"Nice model. Do they hold arts and craft classes in jail?" Isaac smirks.

"Well, we can always go back to the bank you tried to rob yesterday and turn you in...perhaps you'll find out then." Allison tilts her head with a sarcastic smile.

"Can we focus?" Derek glares around the room.

Lydia inwardly sighs and leans forward, removing the Strip from the model to reveal the complex structure - it features three tunnels, each leading from a casino to a single freight-sized elevator shaft which desends into an enormous vault.

"The Jungle vault. Located below the Strip, beneath two-hundreed feet of solid earth. It safeguards every dime that comes through each of the three casinos above it." Lydia pauses for a beat. "And we are going to rob it."

Everyone stays silent.

"Smash-and-grab job?" Stiles asks from the far back.

Derek rolls his eyes. "It's slightly more complicated than that."

Stiles glares at the back of his head. "I know...I _know_ that."

Lydia picks up a remote control and switches on a panel of televisions. "Courtesy of Malia Tate -"

Malia winks at the red-head.

"- new blackjack dealer at the Jungle, here are security tapes from the three casinos."

Three montages of black and white security tapes fill the screens, starting within the casinos' cages, moving into the tunnels, then pushing into the elevator and eventually the vault.

The group's glances shoot back and forth from the televisions to the corresponding section of the model.

"Okay. Bad news first." Lydia places her hands on the table. "This place houses a security system which rivals most nuclear missile silos. First, we have to get within the casino cages -"

Allison points to the model. "- Here, here and here -"

"- which anyone knows takes more than a smile." Lydia tightens her lips. "Second, through these doors, each of which requires a different six-digit code changed every twelve hours. Past those lies the elevator, and this is where it gets tricky: the elevator won't move without authorization fingerprint identification -"

"- Which we can't fake -"

"- and vocal confirmation from both the security center within the Jungle and the vault below -"

"- Which we won't get."

Lydia pulls her hair to her back. "Furthermore, the elevator shaft is rigged with motion detectors -"

Allison stands up straight. "- Meaning if we manually override the lift, the shaft's exit will lock down automatically and we'll be trapped."

"Once we've gotten down the shaft - Isaac, stop laughing - it's a walk in the park. Uh, just three more guards with Uzis and predilections toward not being robbed, and the most elaborate vault door conceived by man." Lydia finishes. "Any questions?"

A good ten seconds of silence fills the room. Liam speaks first.

"Why not dig a hole under the ground?"

Allison shakes her head. "Tunneling is out. There are scales monitering the ground for one-hundred yards in every direction. If a groundhog tried to rest there, they'd know about it. Anyone else?"

Scott lifts his hand up. "You said something about good news?"

Lydia smiles at him. "The Nevada Gaming Constitution stipulates: a casino must hold in reserve enough cash to cover every chip at play on its floor. As I mentioned, this vault services each of the three casinos above it. Which means, during the week, by law, it must hold anywere from sixty to seventy million dollars in cash and coin. On a weekend, between eighty and ninety million. On a _fight_ night, such as the one two weeks from tonight, the night we're going to rob it...at least a hundred-and-fifty million. Without breaking a sweat."

She stares around the room. Kira's biting her nails.

"Now, there are ten of us. Each with an equal share. You do the math."

She watches them all do exactly that, all of their expressions changing from skeptical to hungry. 

Malia whistles.

Lydia nods. "That's what I said."

"I have a question." Derek speaks out.

"Shoot."

"Say we _do_ get into the cage, and _through_ the security doors, and _down_ the elevator we can't move, and _past_ the guards with guns, and _into_ the vault we can't open -"

"- I'm sensing some doubt."

Lydia sniffs. "Without being seen by the cameras. Sorry. Forgot to mention that."

"Right." Derek deadpans. "Say we do all that. We're just supposed to walk out of there with a hundred million dollars in cash on us without getting stopped?"

Lydia smiles a sure-of-herself grin, the one Allison couldn't deny earlier and these guys won't deny now.

"Pretty much."

Derek stares at her. Pulls out his prescription and pops a pill into his mouth.

"Okay." Lydia stands straight. "Here's how we begin."

**THE SINEMA**

A cash cart moves by with security guards pushing it past tourists and past Stiles sitting at a blackjack table.

_"First task: reconnaissance. I want to know everything that's going on in all three casinos. From the rotation of the dealers to the path of every cash cart._

  
**  
****THE JUNGLE BREAK ROOM**  
  


Malia sits in her blacjack uniform and a crossword puzzle in her lap. On the table next to her, two security technicians grumble about their sex lives.

_"I want to know everything about every guard, every watcher, anyone with a security pass. I want to know where they're from, what their nicknames are, how they take their coffee."_

On her crossword, Malia has scribbled down keywords of the technicians' conversation. She glances up and eyes the electronic keycard clipped to one technician's belt.

  
**  
****THE PRESERVE**  
  


Scott is shadowing a guard and watches as an identical keycard is swiped through a keypad, its light flashing red to green, admitting a guard into the "EMPLOYEES ONLY" doorway. He notes a sentry standing watch by the door as well as a security camera embedded in the ceiling above.

No one is walking through that portal unchecked.

_"Most of all, I want you guys to know these casinos. They were built as labyrinths, to keep people in. I want you guys to know the quick routes out."_

  
**  
****LAS VEGAS BOULEVARD**  
  


With two dozen other tourists, Isaac crosses the street and when he meets a manhole cover, he stops. Extracting a small metal hook from his jacket, he removes the cover from its perch. He drops into the manhole, pulling the cover over him. So casual that no one's even noticing him there.

_"Second task: power. On the night of the fight, we're going to throw the switch on sin city. Isaac, that's your show."_

  
**  
****THE JUNGLE SECURITY CENTER**  
  


Dozens of moniters manned by dozens of watchers canvas dozens of casino tables. Another bank of moniters manned by two watchers oversee a different section of the casino: the cage, its tunnels, the elevator and the vault it leads to.

_"Third task: surveillance. Casino security has an eye and ear on everything, so we'll want an eye and ear on them. Kira..."_

  
**  
****THE JUNGLE, KIRA'S ROOM**  
  


Lydia and Allison slide over a couple of pages to Kira. She squints, studies them for a second then blinks.

"Well, it's not the _least_ accessible system I've seen, but it's close. I don't suppose they have a closed-circuit feed I could tap into?"

Lydia shakes her head.

"Then this is definitely a black bag job. Do they employ an in-house technician?"

Lydia turns to Allison who is tampering with Kira's audio-video setup. "Two. One of them is lonely."

  
**  
****OLYMPIC GARDENS STRIP CLUB, FLASHBACK**  
  


A security technician (one of the two that Malia eavesdropped on) shells out twenty bucks every three minutes to the dancer giving him a lap dance. The dancer bends over him and grabs every single bit of his attention, secretly removing the keycard from his belt.

She smiles down at him. "I'll be right back, sweety. Don't move a muscle."

The technician grins at her stupidly. "Depends on the muscle."

As the dancer walks away, the grin she's sporting turns into utter disgust and she makes her way outside. Allison's already waiting for her.

The dancer hands her the keycard as Allison hands her some notes. "Thanks, Harley. I'll have it back within the hour." She begins to walk away but halts. "Say hello to your mom for me."

"Say it yourself. She'll be on stage in five minutes."

  
**  
****THE JUNGLE, KIRA'S ROOM**  
  


"Wow." Lydia shakes her head. "You _really_ experimented during your break with Scott, huh?"

  
**  
****THE JUNGLE CASINO**  
  


Scott walks through the casino with a bunch of balloons in his hand, dressed as a delivery boy. Stiles, portraying a tourist, "accidentally" bumps into Scott and the balloons fly up to the ceiling. Straight in front of a camera.

"Hey, man." Scott frowns. "Watch it."

  
**  
****THE JUNGLE SECURITY CENTER**  
  


A watcher sees the balloons cover one of the cameras on the screen in front of him. "433, we have a visual impairment on the east door camera."

**THE JUNGLE CASINO**

"Got it." The sentry sees the balloons and approaches the delivery boy and the tourist. "Excuse me, sir. You're going to have to move your balloons."

Scott's ignoring him and is currently picking a fight with tourist Stiles. "How dare you. How dare you."

Stiles lowers his glasses. "What's your issue, man? It was an accident."

With the sentry out of position, Kira takes her moment and moves quickly towards the door, the hired techincian's uniform a little baggy on her figure. She swipes the newly-acquired keycard and when it flashes green, she enters the hallway.

She's in.

And she has to take a moment as her forehead begins to sweat then checks the palm of her hand. Drawn in pen is a diagram of the cage corridors.

As nonchalantly as she can, she ambles down a hallway, then another, until she reaches an unmarked door next to the entrance of the security center. She swipes her keycard to enter.

When she sees the switchboard full of wires, plugs and lights, she goes to work.

  
**  
****THE JUNGLE CASINO**  
  


"Hey, you hear about this medical discovery they made?" Scott asks Stiles as they're nose to nose. "It's called a sense of direction. Apparently we're all supposed to have one."

He's doing a fine job from blocking the sentry from the balloons.

"You can joke all you want." Stiles shrugs. " _I'm_ not the one selling balloons for a living."

  
**  
****CIRCUITRY ROOM**  
  


Kira clips a small machanism to a man conduit then verifies a tiny receiver she's holding that's picking up the mechanism's feed. One last click into place causes a breif, unnoticed blip on the security moniters and transmits all the views of the cages onto the monitors in her hotel room.

  
**  
****THE JUNGLE, KIRA'S ROOM**  
  


Allison stares at the screens. "Why do they paint hallways that colour?"

"They say taupe is very soothing." Lydia turns her lips down.

  
**  
****THE JUNGLE, HALLWAY**  
  


Kira looks down at her palm. She's sweated off the ink. Dear god.

She takes a left. A watcher is dead ahead. She has no other option but to march towards him.

She thinks she's in the clear when she walks past him, she even sees the exit looming ahead which means she's gone the right way...but then the watcher turns around and starts to walk after her.

  
**  
****THE JUNGLE CASINO**  
  


" _You're_ the idiot!"

"No, _you're_ the idiot!

"Hey!" The sentry glares at Scott and Stiles. He pushes past them and grabs the bunch of balloons. "Enough."

"Dude, get your own balloons." Scott snatches them back.

  
**  
****THE JUNGLE, HALLWAY**  
  


Kira approaches the exit a little too quickly and swipes the keycard. The light doesn't flash green.

Her eyelids are sweating.

"Hey." The watcher calls from behind her.

Kira checks the card. She scanned the wrong side. Another turn and the light flashes green. As she pulls the door open, the watcher stops her.

  
**  
****THE JUNGLE, KIRA'S ROOM**  
  


Allison and Lydia stare at the screen.

"Oh, shit." "Oh, fuck."

  
**  
****THE JUNGLE, HALLWAY**  
  


Kira swallows. She's done. She's definitely done.

Then the watcher holds out her receiver and drops it in Kira's hand. "You dropped this."

"Oh." Kira blinks. She smiles. "Thank you."

  
**  
****THE JUNGLE, KIRA'S ROOM**  
  


Allison and Lydia exhale. They lean back in their chairs.

"Well..." "Yeah."

_"Fourth task: construction."_

  
**  
****WAREHOUSE**  
  


The group haul in building materials - lumber, tools, paint - and Liam balances several objects on his head to demonstant his skills. Stiles rolls his eyes.

_"We need to build an exact working replica of the Jungle vault."_

_"For practice."_

_"Something like that. Fifth task: intellegence."_

Lydia moves past the boxes being pushed past her and heads towards Stiles. "We need those codes, Stilinski. From the man who has all three."

Stiles pushes a box along after checking it. "Matt?"

Lydia writes something down on her pad. "Learn to love his shadow."

"Wait. All I get to do is _watch_ the guy?"

Scott passes them. "Well, you've got to walk before you crawl."

Allison pulls in her lips. "No, Scott. The other way round."

_"Sixth task: transport."_

  
**  
****BILLY TIM'S VAN AND TRUCK DEALERSHIP**  
  


Malia stares out the window of the dealership office at Scott, who is currently standing on the bumper of a van, jumping up and down.

She turns back to Billy Tim.

"I'm sorry, eighteen-five each is the best offer I can give you."

Malia nods her head and smiles politely. "I understand. I do. They are beautiful vans. Thanks for your time, Mr Tim."

Billy Tim kindly takes the hand Malia's offering and shakes it. "My pleasure."

"Holy _crap_ , you have really soft hands." Malia gasps, keeping hold of the man's grasp. "Do you moisterize?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't apologize for the softness of your hands, Billy. How do you do it? I've tried different lotions - I tried the fragrance-free ones for a solid year. No luck."

Billy Tim's right eye begins to water as Malia squeezes his hand.

"My dad, he uses the aloe vera with the sun screen built in-"

"You said you'd be willing to pay in cash?" Both eyes are watering now.

Malia nods. "I did. You know, they say cinnamon is wonderful for your pores. I read that on the internet. And that, ideally, you should be wearing gloves to bed-"

The man's legs are beginning to buckle. "If you could pay cash, I could probably drop the price a little. To, say, seventeen -"

Malia squeezes his hand tighter.

"Sixteen! Sixteen each."

Malia grins. "That would be great."

****HABERDASHERY, LAS VEGAS** **

Lydia sits crossed legged next to Deaton as she watches a tailor fit Derek for a suit, and smiles when he lowkey checks himself out in the mirror.

"This is a nice material."

"It's Armani, Derek."

Derek nods. "Nice."

He's not fooling Lydia, though. She can see he's scared. She looks to the tailor. "Could you give us a moment, please?"

As the tailor leaves, she gets up and stands next to Derek.

"You sure you're up for this?"

His expression changes immediately. "If you ever question me again, Lydia, you won't wake up the following morning."

Lydia turns to Deaton with her eyebrows raised. "He's ready."

Deaton raises an eyebrow.

Derek turns back to the mirror, clearing his throat. "Hello, my name is Stefan Zaytsev."

Lydia tilts her head. The accent is good. "More throaty."

Derek brings his voice lower. "My name is Stefan Zaytsev."

A few hours and a clean up later, Derek is walking through the Jungle in his Armani suit, hair styled back, a fake mustache and a set of shades. He fixes his tie, well aware of Scott behind him, acting as his bodyguard and carrying his luggage.

With a hand in his pocket, Derek approaches the concierge.

"Good afternoon, sir. How can I help you?"

"My name is Stefan Zaytsev." He replies in his rehearsed accent. "I would like a suite, please."

"Do you have a reservation with us?"

Derek tilts his head. "I don't make reservations."

In the distance, Allison and Stiles are seated in the restaurant area.

Allison turns to Stiles. "Alright, tell me about Daehler."

"Well, the guy's a god-damn _machine_." Stiles mumbles. "He arrives at the Jungle every day at two in the afternoon. Same car, same driver. Remembers every valet's name on the way in. Not bad for a guy who's worth three-quarters of a billion."

Allison's lips drag down.

"Offices are upstairs. He works hard then hits the lobby floor at seven o'clock. Spends three minutes on the floor with his casino manager."

"What do they talk about?"

"All business." Stiles replies. "Matt likes to know what's going on in his casinos. There's rarely an incident he doesn't know about or handle personally."

"What else?"

"He has a couple of minutes with the high rollers. He's fluent in Spanish, German and Italian and he's taking Japanese lessons. He's getting quite good at it. Then he's out by seven-thirty, when an assistant hands him a black portfolio of the day's takes and new security codes. Then he heads to the restaurant."

Allison nods and watches the entrance of the Jungle. It's seven o'clock now and no sign of Matt.

"Give him ten seconds." Stiles murmurs.

Ten seconds later, into the restaurant walks Matt Daehler.

"Like I said," Stiles lowers his voice. "God-damn _machine_."

Allison picks at the bread basket in front of her. "And that portfolio contains the codes to all the cage doors?"

"Two minutes after they've been changed, he's got them in his hand." Stiles raises his eyebrows before leaning forward. "You know, you guys have picked one hell of a target. He is as smart as they come. The last guy caught cheating here, Matt not only sent him up for ten years, he got the bank to seize the guy's home _and_ bankrupted -"

"I've heard the story." Allison adds with a mouthful of bread.

"He doesn't just go after your knees, he goes after your livelihood. And the livelihood of anybody you've ever _met_."

Allison smirks. "Are you scared, Stilinski?"

Stiles gawks. "Are you suicidal?"

She pops another piece of bread into her mouth. "Only in the morning. Now what?"

Stiles sighs. "Now comes the guy. Boyfriend, presumeably. If he comes down after Daehler, that means they've probably had a fight."

"Where does he come from?"

"The museum downstairs. He's the curator there." Stiles looks to the stairs. "And here he comes."

Allison swallows more bread and follows Stiles' line of sight. And when she sees the handsome man walk down with a pretty smirk on his face, she nearly chokes.

She _knows_ him.

That's... _that's_ -

"I don't know if we can use him yet." Stiles continues. "I haven't even found out his name."

Allison closes her eyes and tilts her head back. She cannot believe this. "Jackson."

"Huh?"

"His name is Jackson."

**WAREHOUSE**

Lydia watches ahead as the team put together a replica of the Jungle vault. It's coming together quite nicely. She turns her head to see Scott in the distance, goggles on and a blowtorch in his hand as he gets to work on the new vans.

She senses Allison walking towards her from behind, but what she _doesn't_ notice is the angered look on her face.

Allison glares at Lydia when she turns around. "Lydia, can I have a word with you for a moment?"

Lydia raises an eyebrow, but follows her nether-the-less.

When they reach the entrance of the warehouse and Allison still stays scarily quiet, Lydia exhales. "What's gotten you all riled up?"

Allison's nostrils flare. "Tell me this isn't about him."

"What?"

"Tell me this isn't about him, or I swear, I'll walk off the job right now." Allison simmers.

Lydia stares dumbfoundedly.

Allison laughs. It lacks humour. "What, so it _isn't_ a coincidence that Jackson is with Matt Daehler, the guy who you decided to rob?"

Lydia's face faulters.

"Oh, _god_ , Lydia! Tell me this isn't about screwing over the guy who's screwing your ex!"

"It's _not_." Lydia bites back. "It's not about that at _all_."

"So, it's not about getting Jackson back?" Allison raises her eyebrows in disbelief.

"Why would I try to get back someone who is the reason I've just spent the last four years in prison?!"

Allison clamps her mouth shut. She's so _confused_. "Then, what is it about?"

Lydia stays silent.

And then it clicks in Allison's mind. "You don't want to screw over the man who's fucking your ex...it's your _ex_ you want to screw over."

"Do you honestly blame me?" Lydia throws her hands up. "He turned me in! Wiped four years of my life. I think he deserves a few repercussions."

"And what kind of repercussions would _Jackson_ get from this?"

"Oh, come on." Lydia rolls her eyes. "He's in it for the money, he always has been. And now he has hit jackpot with Daehler."

"I don't believe this." Allison shakes her head.

"Coming from the person that can't even _look_ her ex in the eye." Lydia scoffs.

"You know, this warehouse carries sound quite well." Scott's voice echoes out.

They both ignore him.

"How'd he look?" Lydia looks at Allison.

"Even more beautiful than the last time I saw him." She answers truthfully.

"What an ass."


	4. The start

****

**  
**

** HIGH ROLLER'S ROOM, THE JUNGLE **

****  


Derek sits at the only operating table in the room, furtively peeling at the roll of heartburn tablets in his hand before slipping one in his mouth.

"Weak stomach, Mr Zaytsev?"

Derek looks to his left at a fellow player. "I don't believe in weakness. It costs too much."

The man nods.

"I also don't believe in questions, either." Derek raises an eyebrow.

Malia stands at the end of the table and holds in a laugh as she shuffles the cards.

When he looks from the man who has now kept his mouth shut, Derek spots Matt Daehler on his way in, right on schedule.

Matt approaches the area manager and stands next to him. "Hey, Eddie. Anything for me?"

The manager nods at his arrival. "Mr Zaytsev, sir. Stefan Zaytsev. He wishes to speak to you privately."

Matt looks over at Derek who has his attention on the table. "Who is he?"

"Businessman of some kind, working mostly in Europe. He's very vague, but I asked around." Eddie replies. "Word is he deals primarily in arms. One of the biggest."

"Zaytsev, you said?" Matt asks. "Never heard of him."

"Yes, sir." Eddie nods. "That's why I don't doubt it."

"Is he staying here?"

"Checked in two nights ago, sir. He's in the Bardo suite."

"How's he doing?"

"Up. Almost forty grand." Eddie answers.

Matt continues to stare at Derek's side profile. "Good for him."

As Derek bets heavily for the bank, Matt approaches him and stands to the right.

"Bank wins. Natural line." Malia speaks out.

Derek wins.

"Mr Zaytsev." Matt steps forward.

Derek turns to look up at the man and smiles. "My Daehler. Once, nine casinos out of ten, the owner comes up to me in the middle of the hand to ask what I want. I respect your waiting."

"You're the guest, sir." Matt smiles.

"And I have to impose on your hospitality. Can you sit in for a hand?"

"I'd love to, Mr Zaytsev, but the gaming boards would feed me to my white tigers if I did."

Derek chuckles and stands, straightening his tie. "That's a shame. You're the king of Vegas but you have to play craps in the alley."

Matt laughs. "No shame at all. Reminds me of my youth."

Derek walks with him. "The fight is Saturday, is it not?"

"It is. I can get you seats if you are interested." Matt replies.

"Oh no - hand to hand combat doesn't interest me. I have a package arriving here Saturday evening. A black briefcase, standard size, the contents of which are very valuable to me."

"I'd be happy to put it in the house safe for you."

Derek tilts his head with a smile. "The house safe is for ten-year-old scotch. I'm afraid I will need something more secure."

Matt pulls in his lips. "Sir, I can assure you that the house safe is completely..."

Derek glares. Matt stares back.

"I can assure you, Mr Daehler, your generosity in this matter will not go overlooked. What can you offer me besides the house safe?"

Derek's eyes are pure steel. Matt recognizes that he is not a man familiar with being denied.

He gives in.

****

**  
**

** THE PRESERVE RESTAURANT **

****  


Lydia confidently walks into the fully booked restaurant and straight away her eyes fall on to the back of Jackson's head.

Her blood boils for half a second but then she's calm.

She walks up, her hips swaying and places a hand on his shoulder.

"You're thirty seconds late." Jackon speaks without turning. "I was about to send out a search party."

Lydia reveals herself and stands in front of him with a simple smile.

Jackson's face falls.

"Hello, Jackson."

Jackson doesn't blink. "What are you doing here?"

"Well..." Lydia looks down at her dress. "I'm out."

"You're out."

"Of prison." Lydia speaks slower. "Remember? The place they put me for four years after you turned me in? Does that ring a bell?"

"Yes, I-I remember, of course." Jackson nods quickly. "Please don't sit down -"

Lydia takes a seat, crossing her legs and wiping her fingertips on the napkin in front of her. "It's lovely to see you."

Jackson sighs, turning to look at the entrance to the restaurant. "It's, er, great to see you, too. Lydia, what are you _doing_ here?"

Lydia's reading through the menu when a waitress passes. "Excuse me, could I please grab a martini? Thank you."

"Lydia."

"Yes?"

"Are you here to yell at me? To get your revenge? Just a quick visit? What is it?" Jackson asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, I was just checking in. Seeing how you were. Unfortunately, karma hasn't caught up with you just yet. You still are incredibly handsome."

Jackson pulls in his lips and looks to the table.

"Does Matt know of your history? I can imagine a very wealthy casino owner such as himself would be put a little on edge if he found out his boyfriend used to get his hands quite dirty."

Lydia pinpoints the exact moment when it clicks in Jackson's mind.

His eyes bore into hers. "You should get on a plane and go home, Lydia."

"Sorry, Jackson, but I stopped listening to you four years ago."

"If I get on my knees and beg, will that make you leave?"

"Your ego is stopping me from reaching the door." Lydia rolls her eyes. "I'm not here for you."

"Trust me, I know exactly what you're here for." Jackson snaps. "You think the kind of people you steal from don't have insurance to compensate them? They get made whole again."

"Then I guess everybody wins." Lydia smiles and holds out her palms. 

"Do you remember what I said to you when we first met?" Jackson leans into the table.

Lydia lets her hands fall and stares at him. "You said: 'you better know what you're doing'."

"Do you know? Right now? Because you should walk out of the door if you don't."

Lydia smiles spitefully. "I know what I'm doing."

"What _are_ you doing?"

Lydia looks up and sees Matt standing there. 

She smiles at him. "Catching up."

Jackson sighs very quietly. "Matt, this is Lydia. My ex-girlfriend."

"Lydia Martin." She extends a hand.

"Ms Martin. You've never been mentioned." Matt takes her hand and shakes it.

"Maybe I wasn't an honourable mention." Lydia sighs, standing. "I have your seat. Go ahead."

"Lydia was just walking through the restaurant and spotted me." Jackson explains, still glaring at Lydia.

Matt sits down. "Is that right?"

"I was shocked myself." Lydia smiles. "Imagine the odds."

"Lydia was just..." Jackson clears his throat.

"I was just passing. Wanted to say hello for old time's sake." Lydia tilts her head.

"Stay for a drink." Matt asks, his voice empty.

"She can't."

"I can't."

"Your martini, miss." The waitress appears.

Lydia looks at the glass and takes it before staring down at Matt. "This is to go."

"I can't imagine we'll be seeing you again, Ms Martin?"

Lydia takes a sip of her drink, sneaking a glare at Jackson. "You never know."

Matt chuckles. "I know everything that goes on in my hotels."

Lydia wants to gag. "I'll put those towels back, then. Nice to see you, Jackson."

Heading towards the entrance, she takes a deep breath.

Does she feel better? No.

Is she still angry? Yes.

She downs quite a bit of her martini on the elevator up and as she walks to the lobby she downs the rest and puts the glass on a table.

She also completely misses Stiles hovering by the elevator behind her.

** LA IGLESIA HOTEL **

"We're here today at the historic La Iglesia hotel and casino, once the prize resort of Las Vegas and now seconds away from demolition."

Matt Daehler stands in front of the large crowd that has gathered to watch, one finger on the button ready. Jackson stands next to him with his hands behind his back.

"And here's Alan Deaton, former owner of the La Iglesia." The reporter continues as he faces the camera. "He has come to bid farewell to his fabled resort and to wish Matt Daehler all the best with his future plans for the property."

Deaton steps up to the stand and joins Matt.

"Good to see you, Deaton." Matt's voice is low as he smiles to the cameras and reporters.

Deaton smiles as well, giving a slight wave to the crowd. "Eat shit."

Jackson's eyes scan the crowd until they land on familiar eyes staring back at him.

Lydia blends herself in with the mass of people and glares back at him, something sparkling in her eye. Probably the growing anger.

Stiles stands a few feet away from her and doesn't miss the exchange by a second.

Matt steps forward and leans into the microphone. "I hope there's as much dynamite in the La Iglesia as there will be in this Saturday's fight."

Allison rolls her eyes.

The button is pressed, the plunger comes down and the La Iglesia implodes.

Deaton bites his tongue extremely hard.

** ISAAC'S HOTEL ROOM **

Isaac sits on his bed surrounded by combustibles. He has the television channel on the live report of the demolition whilst whittling and polishing a plastic explosive into an emerald shape.

As the La Iglesia crumbles on the TV in front of him, the lights in his room flicker and all the electricity goes out.

Isaac halts, staring at the TV screen before taking his goggles off. 

"Shit."

Jumping up, he grabs his jacket and heads out the door, sure to hang a 'DO NOT DISTURB' sign on the handle.

** THE JUNGLE VAULT REPLICA, WAREHOUSE **

Lydia stands in front of the exact replica of the Jungle's vault. They've done extremely well.

She turns to the group and folds her arms. "Okay, call is at five-thirty. Makeup and costume. Derek's - sorry, _Stefan's_ package arrives at seven-fifteen, and Stiles grabs our codes. All goes well there and we're a go. Seven-thirty, Scott delivers Liam and we're committed. From that point, we have thirty minutes to blow the power or he suffocates."

"Once the electricity goes, all entry points to the vault and its elevator will automatically lock down for two minutes." Allison continues. "That's when we make our move."

They both step to the side and they watch Scott enter the 'vault', wheeling in a cash cart and leaving it in the correct slot of the vault's centre before exiting.

As soon as the vault doors lock, the lid of the cash cart flies open and Liam's legs pop out. He inhales deeply then slowly unspools himself from the cart and crouches on top of it. He peers down at the green lights that signal the alarms if affected.

"Now," Lydia begins, stepping forward again. "They've put you in the room in the middle of the vault, ten feet from everything. You have to get from there to the door without touching the floor. What do you do?"

"Ten says he shorts it." Stiles mumbles.

"Twenty." Malia adds.

From a dead squat, Liam backflips and lands on the top of the led five yards away, landing perfectly.

He looks over to the group and smiles.

A few raise their eyebrows as the team applauds him. Stiles pays up with a grimace.

"We're in deep shit."

They all turn to Isaac who's stormed in after a slam of the warehouse door. He's covered head-to-toe in sewage.

"Jesus christ." Malia frowns.

"That demolition crew didn't use a coaxial lynch to back the mainline. Onioned the fucking mainframe couplet." Isaac mutters, staring down at his covered clothing.

Stiles blinks and leans into Lydia. "You understanding any of this?"

Lydia nods. "I'll explain later."

"They blew the backup grid one by one, like dominoes!" Isaac yells, throwing his hands in the air.

"Isaac, what happened?" Allison asks, pinching her nose.

"They did _exactly_ what I planned to do. Only they did it by accident. And now they know their weakness. They're fixing it."

"So..." Scott frowns.

"So unless we decide to do this job in Reno, we're fucking screwed."

Lydia looks at Allison. "We could -"

Allison frowns. "By tomorrow?"

Isaac's eyes light up. "We could use a pinch."

Allison looks up. "What's a pinch?"

"A pinch is the equivalent of a cardiac arrest for any broadband electrical circuitry. Better yet - a pinch is a bomb...but without a bomb. Every time a nuclear weapon detonates, it unleashes an electromagnetic pulse which shuts down any power source within its vicinity. That tends not to matter in most cases because the nuclear weapon destroys everything you might need power for anyway. Now, a pinch creates a similar electromagnetic pulse, but without the headache of mass destruction and death."

"For how long?" Stiles asks.

"About thirty seconds." Lydia and Isaac both answer. Isaac shoots her a wink.

"Could a pinch take out an entire city?" Malia asks.

"There's only one pinch in the world big enough to handle it." Isaac replies.

"Where?"

"Pasadena."

Lydia and Allison exchange glances.

Problem solved.

** CAL TECH CAMPUS, PASADENA **

Scott drives the van through the entrance of the California Institute of Advanced Science with Allison next to him in the passenger seat. He parks up and mans the front seats while Lydia, Isaac, Stiles and Liam huddle in the back.

Isaac and Liam grab the tools they need before jumping out the back. Lydia follows them, pulling on her black jacket when Stiles appears to jump out with her.

She turns to him. "What are you doing?"

"Coming with you." Stiles blinks.

Lydia smiles and shakes her head. "No."

"Oh, come on." Stiles exhales as Lydia gestures him back into the van.

"Nope." She closes both the doors in his face and smiles through the glass.

Stiles' eyes watch her jog towards a fire exit door. "Lydia, please don't leave me with them. I'm begging you!"

When Lydia reaches the other two, Liam's already picked the lock and they run in.

Minutes of silence pass by in the van until Scott speaks up.

"Are we going to talk about -?"

"No." Allison answers.

Stiles closes his eyes.

"But we haven't seen each other since we broke up and you called it a break -"

"I know what I said, Scott."

"And that's it? You're not going to say anything else?"

"What should I say?" Allison turns to him. "We haven't seen each other in god knows how long. You've done your thing and I've done mine."

"Well, I didn't really have a _choice_ on the matter, seeing as _you_ ended it with _me_ -"

"Scott, what do you want me to say?!"

"Something!" Scott yells. "You've said all but three words to me since we've been here!"

"Fine!" Allison yells back. "I made a mistake! I regret ending it! Are you happy now?!"

"You confuse the hell out of me, Argent! One minute you're here and the next you're not -"

"Jesus christ - what do you _want_ from me, Scott?"

"Oh my god!" Stiles opens the door and jumps out, heading towards the building. He sneaks through the door that Liam opened.

A few seconds later, the double doors to the left open, revealing Lydia, Isaac and Liam wheeling the pinch towards the rear doors of the van. They squeeze it in and all jump in the back with it.

Lydia pushes her hair back and looks around the vehicle. "Where's Stiles?"

Allison turns to the back. "I was about to ask you the same question."

They open the side door and look up to the second floor of the compound, studying each window until Liam's eyes spot him in the stairwell to the right.

"He's there."

They watch Stiles scramble up the steps, one flight ahead of two guards chasing after him.

"For fuck sake." Isaac growls.

They watch Stiles disappear on a floor, then five seconds later a desk chair flies through a window and Stiles stumbles out.

"Open the doors." Lydia looks at Liam and Isaac.

The two guards follow Stiles out of the broken window as he carefully treads along the overhang towards the van.

When he sees the van, Stiles jumps down in front of the rear doors and meets three very angry faces. Isaac yanks him in and Scott drives off.

"You fucking idiot!" Isaac yells.

As Scott hits the gas, the open rear doors swing back and traps Liam's hand.

" _Shit!"_

"If I say stay in the van, you stay in the van! Do you understand?" Lydia turns to Stiles with fire in her eyes.

"I got it." Stiles replies, out of breath.

"If you lose focus in this game for _one_ second, somebody is going to get hurt -"

"I said I got it!" Stiles yells, avoiding Lydia's glare.

** DEATON'S HOTEL ROOM **

Lydia leaves Stiles, Scott and Allison as soon as the elevator doors open and storms into Deaton's room. As she chucks her jacket on the sofa, Kira turns to face her.

"We have a problem."

Lydia sighs, untying her hair.

"You've been red-flagged." Kira mumbles.

Allison stands behind Lydia. "Red-flagged? What's that?"

Kira hands Lydia a piece of paper. She looks down at it.

It's a mug-shot of her, complete with her height, weight, criminal history...

Shit.

"It means the moment you step on the casino floor, they'll be watching you. Like hawks." Kira swallows. "Hawks with video cameras."

Scott closes the door after him and Stiles.

Allison takes the paper from Lydia and scans it. She looks up at her friend. "Any idea how this happened?"

Lydia hesitates to answer. "No."

"Cut the shit, Lydia." Stiles sighs from over the room. "She's been chasing Matt's boyfriend. They were in an argument two nights ago."

"Excuse me?" Lydia looks over to Stiles, the anger she has directed to him heightening.

Stiles swallows. "I was tailing you."

Lydia squints. "You were _tailing_ me? And who told you to do that?"

Allison drops the paper on the table and sits down. "I did."

Lydia spins around.

"I was concerned you couldn't leave Jackson alone."

"Who's Jackson?" Deaton asks.

"Lydia's ex-boyfriend."

" _Jackson's_ here?" Derek raises his eyebrows.

Allison looks up at Lydia. "I'm sorry. I didn't know if it would sting you, but it did."

Lydia pulls in her lips and paces.

"You're out, Lydia."

She pauses.

Deaton stands from the sofa. "She's _out?!_ "

Allison looks at him. "It's that or we shut this down, right now. Her involvement puts us all at risk."

Lydia glares at Allison. "This isn't your call."

"You made it my call." Allison bites back. "When you put him ahead of us. You made it mine."

"I have not put him ahead of us - this is _my_ job." Lydia yells.

"Not anymore." Allison yells back.

"Wait, wait - she can't just be _out_. Who's going to trigger the vault?" Deaton asks.

Allison sighs and wipes her face before turning to Stiles. "You up for it?"

Lydia cannot believe it. She stares from Allison to Stiles.

Stiles leans against the wall and his eyes flicker to Lydia. To Allison then to Lydia. "Um...sure. Yeah, I can do it."

Lydia's nostrils flare. He doesn't know when to fucking _quit_.

Lydia wants to argue, she wants to scream. But it's so evident that everyone is on Allison's side and truthfully, _Lydia's_ on Allison's side because she knows she's right. But Lydia doesn't want her to be right. She wants to prove her wrong.

She chooses to storm out to the balcony and stay there.

** ALLISON'S HOTEL ROOM **

"Okay, where are you going to put your hands?" Allison turns to Stiles who's dressed in a suit and glasses.

He stutters for a second before clasping his hands.

"No." Scott shakes his head from the window seat.

Stiles puts his hands in his pockets.

"Not the pockets, either." Allison says. "And don't touch your tie."

Stiles drops his tie.

"Look at me." Allison's voice is sharp. "Is that how you're gonna stand?"

"What's wrong with the way I stand?" Stiles gawks.

"It's too obvious." Scott replies.

Stiles tilts his head at Scott with a disbelieving look before exhaling and shifting his balance.

"Wrong again." Allison sighs. "I ask you a question, you have to think of the answer. Where are you going to look?"

Stiles looks down as he thinks.

"Death." Scott whispers.

"You look down, they know you're lying - "

Stiles looks up.

"And up they know you don't know the truth."

"Where the hell am I supposed to look then?!" Stiles flaps his arms.

"Don't use three words when one will do, don't shift your eyes, look always at your mark but don't stare, be specific but not memorable, funny but don't make him laugh, he's got to like you then forget you the moment you've left his sight." Allison reels off. "And for god's sake, whatever you do, don't under _any_ circumstances - "

"Allison?" Kira calls from the other room.

"Yeah?"

"Can you come look at this?"

"Sure." And Allison leaves, with Stiles absolutely bewildered and terrified.

He turns to Scott. "What? What aren't I supposed to do?"

Scott does nothing but laugh.

** THE JUNGLE LOBBY **

"Mr Zaytsev." Matt greets the man as he approaches him.

"Mr Daehler." Derek nods.

"It's an extremely busy night for me. Are we on schedule?" Matt asks him.

Derek looks out to the valet, waiting for the black Mercedes to pull up. "I have no reason to suspect otherwise. My case will be here momentarily."

As the words leave his mouth, the car pulls up and out comes Scott. Wearing a suit and an earpiece sits in his right ear, with the suitcase handcuffed to his wrist. He approaches the two men, handing Derek the key.

Derek unlocks the handcuff and takes the case from Scott. "Danke."

They begin inside, Scott following Derek and Matt's bodyguards following him.

Malia looks up from the table she's dealing.

Lydia peers from the machine she's playing on.

Matt sees her. He turns to his bodyguard.

"Find Mr Walsh and tell him Ms Martin is on the West slots."

The bodyguard nods.

Matt turns to Derek. "I can't have any private security personnel in the Jungle cages, I hope you don't mind."

"Of course." Derek responds.

As they continue walking, someone calls out Derek's name and his skin goes cold.

"Derek? Hey, Derek?"

He turns with Matt and their bodyguards. Scott looks just as confused as he does but they hide it well.

Derek studies the man. He knows him from the racetrack. _Shit_.

"Remember me, Derek? It's me, Johnathan!"

Derek blinks, thinks. Matt's eyes are on him.

He looks at Scott. "Friedrich."

Scott nods and steps to the man, locking his arm and escorting him away.

Derek exhales, unnoticed, and turns to Matt who is still peering at him. "Mr Daehler, please. I have never enjoyed the touch of steel to my skin."

Matt continues to stare at him. Derek becomes a little nervous. Only a little.

But Matt proceeds to the cages and all is well.

They head down an elevator and a hall and eventually reach an empty white room with a table in the centre.

Matt gestures for Derek to place the case on the table and open it, revealing four purple emeralds.

"Can you lift them out, please?"

Derek does so, holding the emeralds in their velvet tray while Matt checks the case thoroughly.

"Alright, Mr Zaytsev. I acknowledge that the case does not contain any dangerous or illicit material. I further agree to take custody of your case for a twenty-four hour period to store in our secure vault. While I cannot permit you to accompany the case to the vault - "

"Why not?"

"Insurance, for one. Security, another. And, if I'm being honest? I don't trust you." Matt replies.

Derek stares blankly at him as someone knocks on the door.

"Excuse me." Matt leaves Derek and heads to the door, opening it slightly so the gentleman on the other side can speak.

"I put two plainclothes on Martin. She's at the keno bar now."

Matt nods at his casino manager and allows him to enter. "Mr Zaytsev, this is my casino manager. If you will allow, he will arrange for your briefcase to be stored inside our vault while you watch on a security monitor. Those are my terms. Yes or no?"

Derek looks to the manager and back to Matt before shrugging. "You leave me no choice."

He unlocks the cuff from his wrist and steps back.

** KIRA'S ROOM **

Kira turns to the screen to see Stiles standing by a pillar in the lobby. It's safe to say he's looking a little nervous.

Kira presses the button on the mic. "Don't be nervous. You'll do fine."

Stiles' voice comes back. _"Thank you"_.

"You're a natural." Kira continues. "Just don't screw up."

Stiles pauses and looks up at the camera with a deadpan expression.

Kira turns to Allison and they both chuckle.

Scott enters the room dressed in a waiter outfit. He pushes the cash cart in which is covered with white cloth.

Allison stands and removes the cloth, revealing the cart lid. She looks up at Liam. "You ready?"

He finishes wrapping up his injured hand and nods.

** THE JUNGLE SECURITY CENTRE **

Matt leads the way and they reach a hall with large wide glass panels on the right which show the security section. "This is our security centre, where we oversee all of the casinos as well as our vault."

Derek nods.

"You'll be able to monitor your briefcase from here." Matt finishes, checking his watch.

"Don't let me keep you." Derek smiles.

"Mr Zaytsev." Matt nods before leaving.

** KIRA'S ROOM **

Allison leans to the mic. "Stiles, you're up."

** THE JUNGLE LOBBY **

Stiles nods and right on cue, Matt appears through a door and begins to walk through the lobby.

"Mr Daehler?" Stiles calls out, catching up with the man as he looks through his black portfolio. "Hi, I'm Zach Cotrell. I'm with the Nevada Gaming Commission. Could I have two minutes of your time?"

Matt sighs and continues walking. "Anything for the NGC."

"Great. Could you accompany me to pit five, please." Stiles nods and follows the man.

Lydia watches from the bar. He seems to be doing well.

Just when she thinks her anger has simmered, Jackson walks past.

She has _so_ much more to say, so she gets up, leaves a tip at the bar and heads in his direction. Two security guards track her movements.

** KIRA'S ROOM **

Liam tucks himself into the cash cart and Allison hands him a slim oxygen tank for company. 

She looks up to Scott. "When do you make the deposit?" 

"Not until I get your signal. Come on, Allison, do I look like an idiot?" Scott sighs. 

She blinks silently before looking down at Liam. "Alright, you okay in there? How's it feel? Want something to read? Any snacks?" 

Liam reaches his hand up and throws her the middle finger. 

"Great." Allison replies. "I'm counting down. Thirty minutes of breathing time starts...now." 

She closes the cart lid. 

****

** PIT FIVE, THE JUNGLE LOBBY **

Stiles and Mr Daehler watch the two security guards they instructed approach Malia as she works.

Stiles turns to Matt. "It only came to our attention this morning, Mr Daehler. Apparently, she has a record longer than my arm."

Matt opens his portfolio and pulls out a card. "If she is who you say she is."

Stiles nods, watching Matt place the card in his suit pocket.

** KIRA'S ROOM **

"Did you make that out?" Allison asks Kira.

Kira squints at the screen. "No, his head blocked the last two numbers."

Allison presses the mic button. "We missed it, Stiles. You've got to grab the combination yourself."

** ** PIT FIVE, THE JUNGLE LOBBY ** **

****  
  


****

Stiles makes the stupid mistake of slightly nodding so the girls know he got the message.

Matt notices it.

"How long have you been at the commission?"

Great. He's testing him.

"About eighteen months." Stiles stares ahead.

"I know Caine Bowman over there. You work with him at all?"

Stiles pauses. "Not since he died last year."

Matt nods and turns his attention to Malia.

Stiles' stomach flips. He passed.

The security guards bring Malia to the two men.

"Ms Redfern, could you come with us, please?" Stiles asks her.

Malia frowns. "What's this about?"

"I think it's better if we talked off the floor." Matt clears his throat.

Stiles nods and allows Mr Daehler to lead them away.

Behind them, an elevator door opens and reveals Scott now dressed as a security guard. He wheels the cash cart through the lobby.

** ** THE JUNGLE RESTAURANT ** **

Jackson takes a seat and thanks the waiter for the water before his eyes skim up. He does a double take at Lydia walking in.

He exhales, gets up and storms over to her. "No. You need to leave, now. Right now."

He grabs her arm and drags her towards the entrance.

"Hey, hey - _Jackson_." Lydia hisses, ripping her arm away.

He turns to her. "You are up to something, Lydia. _What?_ And don't say it's to get me back - "

"I've already told you I'm not here for you - "

"You're pulling a job, aren't you? Well, know this. You won't win me back."

Lydia smiles, watches Jackson's face.

She doesn't know how or why, but the anger diminishes. Right then and there.

"Jackson, I was coming to say goodbye."

Jackson's face falters.

"I don't want to be angry anymore. And I most certainly don't want you affecting my life the way you have."

He blinks. "Oh."

"Goodbye, Jackson." Lydia nods before walking out.

God, she hope this works.

And when she turns the hall and two security guards are standing there, she knows it, in fact, _has_ worked.

"Ms Martin. Mr Daehler would like to see you."

Lydia looks at the guard and smiles. "I thought he might."

**BOARD ROOM, THE JUNGLE**

"Good afternoon, Ms Redfern." Stiles walks around the table situated in the middle of the room. Mr Daehler stands at the end and Malia sits in the middle. She has her finger to her mouth as she stares ahead. "Or should I call you Ms Tate?"

She looks up at Stiles. He raises his eyebrows.

Malia sighs.

Stiles looks down at the clipboard. "Malia Tate, formerly of the Tropicana, the Desert Inn and the New York State penitentiary system?"

Malia stares at the wall and keeps her mouth shut.

"Your silence suggests you don't refute that." Stiles murmurs before turning to Matt. "Mr Daehler, I'm afraid you've been employing an ex-convict. As you know, the NGC strictly forbids - "

"Sexist fuck." Malia whispers.

Stiles stops in his tracks and turns in shock. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me." Malia looks up at him. "Just because a young woman is trying to earn a decent wage in this state - "

"That is _absolutely_ \- "

"Some white male like you has gotta kick me out on the street." Malia scoffs, rolling her eyes. "What do you want me to do, sir? Want me to jump on the table and dance? Shall I do that instead? So you can throw some bills my way and feel better about yourself after a hard day's work? Want me to serve you your morning coffee and come running when you snap your fingers?"

" _Wh-_ I'm just trying to do my job, ma'am!" Stiles stutters, turning to Mr Daehler. "You, sir, of all people know that-that the Nevada Gaming Commission strictly forbids the employment of female - "

"What did you just say?!" Malia stands.

"I, er, I _meant_ -I didn't mean that. I didn't mean that!"

Next thing, Malia's lunging at Stiles.

"Woah, woah." Matt holds his hands out to separate the two. Stiles' hand dips into Matt's tuxedo jacket and withdraws the vault combination before hiding behind the man. "Sit down."

"I'm cool. I'm cool." Malia breaths, taking her seat.

** KIRA'S ROOM **

"Oh my god, he got it." Allison whispers. "Scott, deliver your package."

** THE JUNGLE LOBBY **

Once he hears the mark, Scott makes his way to the double doors ahead where a security guard stands, his hands gripped firmly on the cash cart.

He smiles at the guard and reaches for his pocket.

He freezes, looking up at the man. "I, er-sorry."

He checks the other pocket.

"Oh, no. Oh, no."

"Is there a problem?" The guard asks.

"I can't find my card. I've lost it. Oh, _god_." Scott's breathing gets deeper and tears spring to his eyes.

The guard stands in shock.

"No, no! I can't lose this job. I can't! I gotta feed my kids, man. I can't lose this." Then...

And then. Scott starts bawling his eyes out.

People around begin to stare. The security guard looks bewildered.

"Hey, hey. It's okay, calm down." The security guard lowers his voice, looking around at the faces staring back. "Just tell me where this is going."

Scott sniffs and wipes his eyes before looking up at the guard. "High roller's room."

"Alright, leave it with me." The guard nods with a smile.

Scott's eyes well up again and he chokes on a sob. "Thank you so much."

** THE SECURITY CENTRE **

"There. There's your briefcase now, Mr Zaytsev." A guard points to the screen where the cash cart is being pushed into an elevator.

Derek smiles faintly and pops a heartburn tablet into his mouth. "Wonderful."

The guard doesn't notice how pale and clammy Derek has become.

** KIRA'S ROOM **

Allison stares at the screen while buttoning up her blouse. "I think that's my cue."

Kira nods before picking up the mic. "Isaac, what's your status?"

** THE VAN **

Isaac leans back in the driver's seat, listening to the radio on loud.

_"Isaac!"_

He picks up the radio. "Come on, Kira. No need to yell. I'm nearly there."

He pulls into the top level of the Jungle's parking lot and screeches to a holt.

** THE JUNGLE HALLS **

Malia steps out from the boardroom and turns to look at Mr Daehler.

Matt turns to his casino manager. "Please escort Ms Tate from the premises. Don't ever step foot in my casino again."

"Yes, sir."

For the final time, as Malia walks off, she glares at Stiles behind Mr Daelher and lunges at him to scare him.

"Jesus!" Stiles flinches before gathering himself.

Once Malia's out of view, Stiles follows Matt.

"Oh, I forgot my pager! I'm so sorry." Stiles pats his pockets before looking up at Matt.

The man sighs and checks his watch. He looks up reluctantly. "Do you know your way back?"

"I do."

"Good." With that, Mr Daehler walks off.

"Okay, enjoy the fight." Stiles calls after him and begins to walk away. "Sorry."

Once out of sight, he pulls the card from his pocket and reads the combination.

** INTERROGATION ROOM **

"How much longer do you think Mr Daehler will be?" Lydia asks the guards whilst tapping her foot.

Apparent that she won't get an answer, she exhales and scans the room.

"No cameras. Don't want people seeing what goes on in this room, I guess?"

Still nothing.

Then it dawns on Lydia.

"He's not coming, is he?"

The guards look at each other. She's called their bluff.

"Then who is?"

There's a knock on the door and the guards smile.

They open the door and in walks a tall, built blonde with a look on her face that reads _'I'm going to beat the living shit out of you'_.

The guards leave the two alone.

Lydia sighs, leans back and cracks her neck. _This_ should be interesting.

** KIRA'S ROOM **

Kira watches the guard wheel the cash cart to the elevator whilst talking to another member of staff.

She's sweating, but a good sweat. Everything's going perfectly.

The guard scans his thumb, the doors to the vault open and he wheels the cash cart to the correct slot.

_Amazing._

But then he places Derek's briefcase on the lid of the cart. Derek's _heavy_ briefcase.

"Oh, _shit_." Kira freezes.

** THE SECURITY CENTRE **

"There, it's safe." The guard smiles. "Does that satisfy you, sir?"

Derek nods but he's miles away. He's sweating and clammy and finding it difficult to breathe. He loosens his tie as his vision blurs. "Very satisfied."

The guard looks to him with concern. "Sir?"

He's trying to focus on the screen, on his briefcase on top of the cart but he can't see.

"I'm fine." Derek nods. He's not.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, anything I watch now I can imagine the Teen Wolf characters in it. I cannot escape this tv show.


End file.
